


Sweet mornings

by Juddnelspoons



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Masturbation, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Pining, Pining Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 16:44:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15319824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juddnelspoons/pseuds/Juddnelspoons
Summary: Sixth year happened and Simon got hot and Baz is turning to handle it the best way he can.





	Sweet mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Ah I hope you enjoy it   
> Sorry if my grammar and spelling is bad, I have dyslexia

Baz  
Being away from Watford was a strange feeling, even after five years of the same routine it felt like I was swinging from one atmosphere to an another, unsure which was more uncomfortable. Of course my home looked better, my room is as stereotypical as you can expect from a black haired mysterious guy like me. Dark wood for the furnishings and red velvet fabrics, all expensive of course. Watford was like any other British boarding school, unimagitive furnishings, the simplistic of fabrics. But the room could have been a trash dump and it still would change the fact that I still felt more comfortable having Simon Snow’s shallowing breathing and light snoring rock me to sleep then the quiet of my home living quarters. Simon Snow asleep was the only time I could look at him without my usual snare. I would listen to his soft snoring, which of course I would moan about in the morning, scolding him on how loud it was. Trying to not think about pressing my lips to his, cupping his head in my hands as I do so, touching those overly soft curls, maybe even go further, pushing him to the bed, kissing him harder but somehow it felt so much softer.   
Sixth year had been hard to say the least. Of course I had gotten used to the feelings of romance, softly growing inside me, telling me how wonderful Snow seems to be. My romantic feelings are no longer seem as tangled, I have slowly accepted that they will come to nothing and they I should have tried to put out a long time ago, like a slowly starting fire which will destroy your whole house if you leave it for too long. Fire was a good way to describe my relationship with Snow. Fire had taken on a new meaning now. Sixth year had brought some unexpected things. Like harder classes, Niall finally getting a girlfriend, and Simon bloody Snow walking in to our dorm, taller, arms toned to perfection, Hair darker and messier, jeans hugging his arse.   
How dare he?  
How dare he get hotter over the summer?  
He knew it too, as least I thought, as clueless he was at everything else. Tongue would poke out at while eyes on me, taking off his shirt without a care that I was watching. Eyeing up every muscle, taking in each one of Snow’s freckles, imagining would it would be like to run my fingers over each one. His soft moans as I would do so, those sounds felt so clear to me, tickling my ear drums.   
I barely noticed that my hand was already on my crouch.   
That was the new fire that had enveloped inside of me, the longing. The deep longing, I had for him now. Sixth year was torture in that department, prancing around our room in see through white shirts.   
I imagined it, imaged what it was like to rip those shirts off, touch his skin, at first viciously, then softly. I would dip my fingers in the soft ways of Simon Snow, first with my damaged, sharped nails, creating those red marks that I could only know. Then with my fingers, marking soft circles making him moan so softly in to my ears. Turning them a bright pink (what a contrast to my hair).   
My hand was moving now, I felt the sweat starting up on my forehead. I didn’t even notice, my brain had become light weight with fantasies. Touching him in my dreams was a joy but him touching me felt heavenly, his touches made me felt I could touch heaven, that I could taste it. And it was all in my head, so who knows that the real, solid, idiotic, charming, beautiful Snow was like in that area. He seemed so fire, his eyes were surrounded by it, his hair matched the flames, even his skin had a hint of the fire that was inside him.   
Kissing him would never seem boring, each kiss with a different texture, and different meaning. Starting slow, like a pair of old lovers reunited. He grabs while kissing me, hands down my back like an old sea diver looking for some lost treaster. That’s when in my dreams he pushes me back, it’s like we were fighting as usual. He pushes me back so far I land on my back. He kisses me deeper, then stops and then gives a look.   
My hands are going faster now, trying to keep up with the speed of my long dead heartbeat.   
He allows me to take control for a moment. I wonder if I should feel worried that he takes the lead so much with me. But I remind myself bitterly that this is all in my head. Thoughts like these have cemented to me to how submissive I can be. I wish I didn’t see that as a weakness.   
I can feel my hand speed up and my heart race as I imagine us become naked, sweating together, eyes full of lust, love and fear. Snows knuckles as turning as white as the bed sheets as his skin almost melts in my mouth. Going down so slowly, too slowly, I could sense it from the way he would pull my hair. It would always be at this point that I was close, so close. I realised through all this that I wanted Snow to pull my hair. I wondered if I could get him to do it one day. I imagined him holding my hair tightly as he fucked me, pulling and clinging on to my black, soft layers. That’s when I came, with that image pressed in to my mind.  
I felt the sadness and guilt wash over me afterwards as usual. I felt hopeless. I felt burned by Snow even in my dreams, and I felt like I was on fire when I saw him in person. I wish I could let him go, that I could just wank this all away; these over hopeless feelings.


End file.
